Page 2 of Sweet T

“Not your passion.”

“Yeah. I’m enrolled because my parents want me to learn a trade, something to fall back on. I know. It’s cliché. I try not to hold it against them. Somewhere deep, they want me to succeed. I hope. They just don’t understand I’m not that person. They’re very—” He reached for a word and came up with, “—traditional. Blue-collar. He’s a mechanic, and she’s a receptionist. They’re pushing me into what they see as a more progressive field. Web design.”

“And you want to be—”

“—an actor.”

Rick was silent, but Evan imagined what he was thinking, echoes of what he’d heard from his parents for quite some time.

Acting is not a career. You need something stable.

Computers are the way of the future.

You’re not gay. You just haven’t met the right girl yet.

You’ll have to get a trade job now. No one will hire you with all those fucking tattoos.

And on and on.

But Rick said, “Fun. Are you heading to Atlanta to be on The Walking Dead?”

“I think that show ended.” Evan had no interest in the popular franchise, but it pleased him that Rick was at least on the same wavelength. “Atlanta is the new Hollywood. They’re producing so many things there now. It’s mind-boggling.”

“Yeah, so I hear. Tax breaks, or something.”

“Anyway, much to my parents’ dismay, I dropped out of school. Told them I was chasing my dream.”

“Good for you. That takes a lot of courage, I imagine.”

“I had it planned better, but there was a fight. I ended up leaving last-minute. All the buses for Atlanta were already gone, and I couldn’t find a ride-share.”

“So, now you’re on the road with a total stranger.”

Evan paused. There was no menace in Rick’s tone, but the reminder was sobering. Hitchhiking was dangerous. Evan’s desire to move on, however, had been far too great to wait.

“My friend, Tyke. He’s going to let me crash at his place in Decatur. We met in a repertory he directed in Augusta last summer. He was my mentor.”

“Mentor?”

“Yeah. I was a novice.” Evan chuckled. “Zero confidence, stage-fright, all the insecurities you’d expect. Tyke changed that. He taught me ways to overcome and transition my fears into positive energy.”

“Sounds like a special guy.”

Evan caught a whiff of innuendo in Rick’s comment. Nothing derogatory so much as curious, and a little flirtatious. He’d considered that he might have to perform a sexual favor or two as compensation for travel. It wasn’t high on his list of aspirations, but a task he was resigned to—especially if it got him to Atlanta. Rick was not a bad-looking guy—brown eyes, five o’clock shadow, cleft chin, slight gut, maybe the beginnings of a receding hairline.

Could be worse, Evan thought. He could be an unattractive murderer.

“Tyke’s a friend,” he said. “I’m single.”

“Me too. Well, I’m separated.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re taking a break. Therapy, you know? Hopefully, it’ll all work out, but I’d rather be single than paired up with the wrong person.”

“Sounds like you're handling it well.”

Rick flashed a sardonic grin. “She didn’t give me much choice.”

---